


Your Scars, My Soul

by QueenoftheHobbits



Series: Soft Thighs Series [33]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Soul Mate AU, overweight reader, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:13:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7676872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheHobbits/pseuds/QueenoftheHobbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soul Mate AU: You share marks with Bucky…you both have different opinions on them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Scars, My Soul

There was one thing that you had grown up knowing about soul mates when nothing else made much sense, when you knew little else. You’d always known that you and your soul mate would always share scars and marks, not all of them, but seemingly ones that were incredibly significant to your soul mate and to you. From the time you were a kid you had a scar that circled the circumference of your left shoulder, it was red and it was angry and it had always been there and you’d always known that it was your soul mate’s, that they must have been someone very brave and they must have had been through something very bad and very sad and you loved that mark. You had made a game of guessing who or what your soul mate could be; a soldier, someone who’d been in an accident, someone who’d saved someone else at their own detriment. 

That mark was always with you, it was a connecting point between you and your soul mate, it was proof that you weren’t alone and that someone out there was made for you, and it was proof that that person had kept going after something terrible...that they were brave and strong. At the time you hadn’t known just how right that assumption was, just how right all your guesses were about that scar and about the other large one’s that covered your body thanks to your soul mate. Other girls would ask you how you could like them, said that they’d be angry at their soul mate for marking their skin so carelessly...but you didn’t understand that, you didn’t think they understood what those marks meant either. What they meant to you. You didn’t think they really understood what having those marks symbolised. 

Bucky had no scars for years...none in the 40s, none during the majority of his life, until you hit puberty and until you grew into a body that people tried to shame you for. Then, even when he’d been under Hydra, he’d noticed the white and red and purple lightning marks appear on his skin, around his hips, his arms, his stomach...and he remembered thinking ‘Finally‘ because Hydra could take away his memories but he knew what a soul mate was and he knew that he finally had one and he knew that they were alive and well and somewhere out there...and they were living and so very alive...and those marks to him were beautiful. They were innocent natural scars that hadn’t seen any hardship, proof his soul mate had a good life, a safe life. They were symbols that you were growing, that you were alive, that you were so very real. They were beautiful and he’d stare at them when he was angry, scared and alone, he’d stare at them when he was running from Hydra and running from Steve...and just running from everything and hoping to run to you even though he wasn’t sure he deserved you. They were a life line to anchor him when nothing else made sense, when confusion hit him, when fear took over him. He always had those cars and he always had you. 

When the two of you finally met it was like you could breathe again, it made sense everything about it made sense. It was a homecoming of sorts, a flood of realisation and safety and home. Obviously there was more to it than some innate connection, there was getting to know each other and date nights in which Bucky would nervously ask if you two could stay inside rather than go out, walks around parks, and talking about who each of you were and who you wanted to be. You two grew incredibly close, became a couple that you’d always wanted to be...and while it had its problems you always sorted through them together. Part of that involved your scars.

You knew which one’s you each shared and the significance behind them...You had Bucky’s scars from where he’d been in Hydra, from where he’d lost his arm...they held bad memories, ugly memories for him. Memories that haunted him at night and caused him to cry. 

For you it was another story, you’d lie there at night, circle the originals that were embossed on his skin. To you they were reminders that he went through something awful and he came out alive. That he got through the pain, the torture, the loneliness and the bitterness and he came out of the other side and he came out a good man. A good man who was always trying his best and didn’t realise quite how amazing he was. You would kiss those scars, show your own copies to him, make him look and make him listen as you whispered what they meant to you in his ears. Let him realise that his scars were part of you, part of your soul. Let him understand that they were beautiful to you for all the right reasons...and watched him grow less bothered by them each day.

And Bucky had your stretchmarks, scars that you felt symbolised the bullying you’d dealt with, that reminded you that lots of people disapproved of your weight...that you would always be scorned for it, that people would look down on you for it. 

But for him that wasn’t what he saw at all, he’d kiss them, kiss your soft stomach, nuzzle into the spot there and look at you with those blue eyes that had never seemed softer. He’d tell you how they were proof for him, while he’d been under Hydra, that you were alive and well, that his soul mate was out there, that there was hope, that you were okay. He’d tell you that they were proof that you were nothing but innocence and bliss, that your scars were something so natural that it made his heart ache in the best way because all he wanted for you was only natural scars, nothing caused by pain, nothing caused by hurt. He’d kiss your nose and tell you that he loved that they showed your life, that they showed who you were, that you were always growing, always living, always moving forward...and he’d remind you that each of those marks was something important to him, something that kept him going when he was at the end of his tether. He watched you as you continued to grow, going from hiding them even in the height of summer to allowing them to show without a care or a thought. He watched you go from insecure and scared of them to appreciative of what they meant to him and what they slowly began to mean to you too.

Because the point of your scars, the point of your soul mate was that they showed you those scars from another perspective and helped you love yourself better, helped you see yourself better, helped you be better. 

Your scars were their soul, their mark, their attachment to you. Your scars were a link to Bucky as much as his scars were a link to you, a sharing of the truth behind each. Proof that you could let yourself give into someone wholly and be given into wholly by someone else. Bucky never held back, never once fought to tell you the gruesome truth and in return you relived memories of names being called and jeers being sent. And you each helped the other with the repercussions of that, of the significance behind the scars and you grew together like twisting vines. 


End file.
